


the way you make me feel

by batyatta (atomicwonderwoman)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Oral Sex, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Shower Sex, So much denial, Vaginal Fingering, so much thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-10 18:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicwonderwoman/pseuds/batyatta
Summary: She had her schedule. She had her hours and her facial expression was enough to deter the most from even thinking of approaching her so people usually gave her enough room to feel as if she’s remotely alone. She did her workouts. She left the gym, avoiding eye contact. Everything was well until it had to come crashing down on her.Because that’s what Ziegler did. She came into her life and ruined it.Or why Moira and gym never mix unless there's a very convincing reason.





	the way you make me feel

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is sponsored by my all-encompassing hatred for cardio. It’s not based on real-life events, unfortunately, but it is inspired by some of it. Yes, starting exercising at the gym was a thing ™ for me. No one was hurt during the writing of this fic and remember - exercise is good for you but it’s best to try to find a form of exercise that you like and can do without doing harm to yourself! And stay hydrated! 
> 
> Also a shoutout to my best bro and beta who has neverending patience for my bullshit ❤ 
> 
> Enjoy!

Few things Moira O’Deorain hated more than exercise. Ignorance. Stupid restrictions based on illogical reasons. Exercise, though. Exercise was her enemy but the kind of enemy you have to begrudgingly admit you cannot avoid or kill. The only reason she even bothered with exercising on a regular basis was the health benefits. Her workout routine was already limited only to moderate cardio a few days a week and yet it remained an annoyance. She could be doing so much  _ more _ but it was good for her. So she believed, so said every study she laid her hands on in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s not that important and the general consensus is in the wrong. 

They were not.

So she forced herself to go through it. All in all, once she joined Blackwatch and went through the mandatory bootcamp which was the kind of experience she relieved in her nightmares, it was easier for her to keep up with her own routine. She had access to Overwatch facilities as well as the schedule so she could plan her workouts on the times when the gym would be most likely deserted. Usually it oscillated sometime around noon, early afternoon or late into the night. It was near impossible for her to have the gym all to herself with so many field agents on the base going back and forth between their missions and releasing whatever new emotions or traumas their work brought on but she did her best to achieve at least some semblance of isolation.

She had her schedule. She had her hours and her facial expression was enough to deter the most from even thinking of approaching her so people usually gave her enough room to feel as if she’s remotely alone. She did her workouts. She left the gym, avoiding eye contact. Everything was well until it had to come crashing down on her.

Because that’s what Ziegler did. She came into her life and ruined it.

She was the one to give her physical examination on her admission to Blackwatch and she was the one to send her to that bootcamp “as there are no contraindications, doctor O’Deorain, unless you forgot to mention one?”. She didn’t see much of her later on, thankfully, because that blue eyes of her were haunting her dreams for completely different reasons. That blue eyes, lips upturned into a smile that was just a touch from genuine and the tight turtleneck she was wearing under her white coat. 

To say that Moira had a dry spell would be an understatement but she always thought she was better than falling for a pretty blonde that looked like she was taken straight out of some fantasy. Not to mention that her callsign was  _ Mercy _ . Her swift response suit, while a small miracle of modern science and engineering made her look like an angel, for god's sake. There was no accounting for her taste if she were to fall for  _ that _ . So she chalked it up to her being lonely, Ziegler being just there and objectively attractive and forgot about the whole thing.

Until Ziegler showed up during her hours at the gym and, after her short warm-up at the treadmill, went to the weight room. The same weight room that she passed on her way back to the locker rooms, the very same one where someone had decided that glass walls were a good idea. And Moira wasn’t the one to peek there but her curiosity got better of her and she did look. Ziegler was there and, if she recalled the name correctly, she was doing deadlifts. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone but she slowed her pace and watched as Ziegler stood in front of the bar that was weighed with what looked to her like quite a lot, bent down and lifted it. She never thought that there could be anything appealing in exercise but the way the veins in Ziegler’s forearms protruded, her arm muscles tensed as well as the glutes and when she moved her pelvis just that tiny bit forward. When she set the bar back down and then did it again, Moira felt hot all over and it wasn’t the cardio.

She skipped the showers in the locker room and went straight for the one in her quarters.

::::

With the arrival of warmer months, she had to move some of the workouts to the later hours. One would think that, with the budget Overwatch had, the air conditioning would be more reliable alas. It didn’t work more often than not, at least at the gym because the labs were always in top shape. Maybe gym wasn’t just that much of a priority to them, who knew. The result was the same - to avoid the heat she would either have to wake up at ungodly hour or just stay up later. The choice was easy, especially with the increased workload and the new exciting experiment that Commander Reyes turned out to be. And she wouldn’t be caught dead waking up early to  _ exercise _ . Even a thought left a distaste in her mouth.

But late workouts meant that she got to see Ziegler far more frequently than before. For some reason, the doctor also preferred doing her regime closer to nighttime, be it because of her work or personal preference, she had no idea, neither she cared. For someone who was supposed to be working on cutting edge healing solutions, Ziegler did waste a lot of time lifting weights and it would be all fine and well if it wasn’t so distracting.

She never tripped on the treadmill but she came close enough to be bothered.

And it’s not like Ziegler was particularly attractive. Or trying to be. She wore a crop top or only a sports bra because it was hot and her shorts were not too short to be considered inappropriate. Besides, it was all Overwatch issued, most wore the same things as her when they worked out. She wasn’t trying to get Moira’s attention, she just was there. In her line of sight and changing spot didn’t really help because she could still hear her breathe hard. Gasp. The clinking sound of weights. Her face, red with exertion was already imprinted in Moira’s mind. So was her form, muscles moving when she lifted, a work of art and a completely different miracle than Ziegler’s inventions.

It was far from optimal. She even considered foregoing the gym altogether but the threat of fieldwork was hanging heavily above her and she’d rather keep up with the rest of them. Be efficient. Her work was on the line and after the Dublin fiasco she would not give Blackwatch any reason to treat her the same way her former colleagues did.

As it was, she would have been fine, doing her thing in her corner, avoiding looking at Ziegler too overtly and just letting whatever it was that was happening run its course. It would have been fine and well but Ziegler had to ruin this again.

It started, as most disasters in her life, innocently with small talk. A concept she found abhorrent but it would be rude not to reply to Ziegler when she asked her how she was settling in. About her work. About that terrible, terrible bootcamp. She didn’t even notice when the time she planned on wasting on the treadmill has ended .

After that incident, Ziegler somehow got into her head that it was appropriate to approach her. So she did and it has only gotten worse because Ziegler was as brilliant as they made her out to be and Moira had to consider the possibility that maybe. Just maybe it is not completely impossible that her interest in Ziegler grew beyond mere appreciation of her physique.

She didn’t have crushes. That’s a step too far but Ziegler. Ziegler was there, was annoying and charming and beautiful and she didn’t know what to do with the warmth in her cheeks and the smile that pulled at her lips when she waved at her.

::::

What started as mostly a coincidence evolved into a whole gym buddy system. Moira was loathe to admit that she not only didn’t know how it happened. She also enjoyed it. While it wasn’t enough to rectify her stance on exercising, having someone to share at least some of her pain, someone to remind her to go and do work out was surprisingly pleasant. Enough that she daresay, looked forward to a message from Ziegler, looked forward to meeting her at the gym.

It was disconcerting. It went against all of her experiences so far. It was also  _ nice _ . As inadequately equipped as she was to experiencing nice things.

Because even she couldn’t deny the appeal of company. Especially if that company was a good conversation partner and if said company initiated discussion. And, with what she was growing to suspect, was an air conditioning conspiracy aimed straight at her, said company was also wearing less. Now, with summer going into full swing, Ziegler tended to forego the top and just go straight for the sports bra and shorts. High waisted shorts mostly but she had a pair or two that was clearly too big and probably a little worn out that slid low onto her hips. It was a relief that at least her abdomen wasn’t extremely defined. Truth be told, Ziegler’s muscles were defined but not too overtly so. She had a layer of subcutaneous tissue that made them smooth, that while you could see them move underneath it wasn’t so ridiculous as on bodybuilders or people dehydrating themselves for fitness competitions. She was just strong. And healthy. And not her type.

Maybe a little her type when she started going on about biotics while running on a treadmill.

But it was the discussion. Not the way sweat clung to her skin and made it shine, not the way her body was all flushed, not her blue eyes positively sparkling with excitement about her latest progress.

If she had any interest in Ziegler it was purely intellectual and that was it.

Her dreams were not to be taken into account as unobjective and a factor completely out of her control.

::::

They worked on the treadmill together and it was fine, it was contained, she was still thinking straight.

Until Ziegler asked her to ‘spot her’ while she was bench pressing.

Moira eyed the bench, eyed the bar and calculated the weight. She looked at her arms, the right one already affected by the experiment she was doing. She looked back at Ziegler who was smiling at her serenely, looking every bit of an angel she was supposed to be on the battlefield.

“I am afraid that I will not be of much help to you, doctor Ziegler,” she said. Ziegler’s smile remained.

And then somehow she found herself standing behind Ziegler’s head, hands below the bar as she was lifting the frankly ridiculous weight. From her place she had the perfect view of Ziegler’s face, the way she bit her lip in concentration. Her form was impeccable, something Moira had learned was a point of pride for her, as well as a necessary precaution. And Moira was paying attention to her form, to the way her muscles tensed when she lifted the bar off the rack and above her chest. How they moved when she lifted it up and brought down again. Her wrists above her forearms, biceps tensing a little as she lifted, lower back off the bench but her hips and shoulders pressed tight, feet firmly on the ground. She was not mesmerized, just very attentive, she told herself, looking for any faults but there were none. 

“Not too bad,” Ziegler said after her first set was done, and she sat to drink some water. Moira watched the droplet of water trail down from the corner of her lips, down to her chin and found herself consumed with the impulse to just wipe it with her finger. She stopped herself but it was a close call. Glad that she had at least some self-restraint, she fumed internally. Ziegler had no business looking this good flushed with exertion, she shouldn’t make her think those thoughts.

Moira was so focused on that stupid droplet and her own issues that she almost missed it when Ziegler started talking again.

“It was a part of my specialty exam,” she said. “The bench press," she added in response to Moira’s raised brow.

“I think you forget that I also have a degree in medicine, doctor Ziegler,” she replied. “And that was a running joke, wasn’t it?”

“At a certain point,” Ziegler grinned. “You’d be surprised how many people believed me.”

She smiled back, the motion growing less uncomfortable these days.

::::

She was resigned to the fact that she was on some level interested in Ziegler. She may not have been her type but she was undeniably attractive. And intelligent. And she even made her smile. The change in her demeanor must have been significant enough that even Commander Reyes noticed it on one of their appointments and found it prudent to mention it. And, what was even worse, she didn’t rebuff him, just hummed and nodded.

For the first time in her life, Moira considered undergoing psychiatric evaluation. 

And the urge got even worse when, one day, she was so engrossed in the lab that she missed two of Ziegler’s messages. That wasn’t the problem but it was unusual for her to text back that she’s sorry. Though it was completely justified and within the social expectations. She wrapped up what she could quickly and all but run to the gym. By the time she was there, Ziegler was already getting off the treadmill, talking to someone and smiling. This shouldn’t have left a bitter taste in her mouth, shouldn’t feel like a punch in her guts. It was the running there, she wanted to believe, but she knew better. 

She was jealous of some random person that Ziegler treated just like everyone else. Because that was the problem with Ziegler, she was nice to people. Friendly. Against all logic, she seemed to enjoy other people’s company and like them. Bizarre.

However, the most worrying part was that she seemed to have had somehow developed a crush and that itself was a good enough reason for her to consider getting psychiatrically examined.

And it was all Ziegler’s fault. As always.

::::

Things progressed yet remained the same. The air conditioning was still faulty, Ziegler was still doing her warm-up or after workout cardio with her and she was thanking the guardian deities she didn’t believe in for the fact that her blushing was easily covered by the normal, runner’s flush.

But the heatwave that hit them was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Because, as strong as her willpower was, she was also so. Very. Tired. So tired, in fact, that she herself had to go for shorts and a tank top because there was no way she would be able to run in her usual long leggings and long-sleeve top.

It started simple - she was doing her thing. Ziegler joined her. Ziegler went to the weight room and called her over when she needed her help which was still something Moira had trouble understanding. She watched Ziegler and tried to convince herself that her furrowed brows and red face and tense body wasn’t in any way turning her on. Neither was Ziegler drinking her water and splashing herself with it. She had some dignity, enough that she would not look at the water running down Ziegler’s face, wouldn’t look at her for a second longer than it was appropriate.

It had almost worked out - she skipped the rest of the cardio and went straight for the locker room, got as far as to pack her own things when Ziegler entered.

She shouldn't be a sight to behold - sweaty, tired, red in her face. Focused and Moira failed to see what would require enough determination for Ziegler to furrow her brow like that, bite her lip and look at her with so much fire she could feel warm from the other end of the room. To ball her fists. She turned to face her and that was the last mistake she made. Because, before she could understand what was happening, Ziegler’s fist was in her top and her face was being pulled down for Ziegler to press her lips against her and oh. 

That was what it was all about.

Her mind blanked out but she caught herself in time to pull Ziegler closer and kiss back, forcefully, trying to convey enough of the annoyance she caused. Ziegler was no better and it was only the danger of hypoxia that had her pull back and breathe heavily. 

Ziegler didn’t say anything, just looked at her and she smirked. She may not feel at all in control but she could pretend well enough.

“Are you alright, doctor Ziegler?” she asked, calmly. Like she was unperturbed and she was so happy it seemed to work by the way Ziegler’s frown deepened.

“It’s Angela, I told you, O’Deorain,” she all but snarled. Moira forced her smirk to turn to smile.

“Call me Moira, then,” she said and turned them so that Ziegler’s,  _ Angela’s _ back hit the lockers. She looked down at her, flushed and at her mercy. She licked her lips and cupped Ziegler’s cheek, let the nails scrape the delicate skin on her face, pressed her thumb to her lower lip.

“Pray tell, what do you want, Angela,” she purred. Ziegler bit her thumb and she withdrew it. 

“You,” she breathed. Moira smiled and let her other arm slide down Ziegler’s side, so warm under her touch. Muscles firm underneath the skin and hipbones hard as she let her hand slide lower, between Ziegler’s legs, her nails dangerously close to Ziegler’s private parts. She sank to her knees and looked at her, properly.

Ziegler was looking down at her with her pupils blown, flushed and her lips so wonderfully shiny. There was a thin layer of sweat clinging to her skin and, while it should be disgusting, Moira was enthralled. The way that the curves of her muscles glistened under the light, the line of her strong shoulders, deltoids and then, the muscles of her arms and forearms and not to mention her breasts held up by the sports bra, sure, but she had a little nagging thought that maybe this particular one was a touch too small. Just enough to uphold the weight but also so tight that her breasts were on the verge of spilling. And then there was her abdomen and rectus abdominis showing a little after the workout she had.

Yet it wasn’t the main point of her interest. No, she had an idea forming, an idea so tempting, she licked her lips. 

“May I?” she asked because it was polite to do. Her voice sounded different, lower and she quite liked it. So did Angela if the way she drew her breath was any indication. And then she nodded and that was all she needed to grab her hips, roughly, knowing that it’ll bruise but there were few things that would be more pleasurable at the moment than the idea that she’ll leave the marks for Angela to remember. To see the next day.

But she had things to do. So she started with Angela’s left thigh, mouthed at it , just above the knee joint. Her skin was salty but so soft and warm under her lips. She kissed her knee and Angela hesitantly put her hand in Moira's hair. She peppered the skin with kisses, reverently, first on the outside and, slowly, she moved to the inner sides of Angela's thigh, sucking the skin, and when she almost reached the groin she moved her attention to the other leg.

Angela was breathing harder above her and it was like music to her ears. All this time, all the annoying disturbance she brought and only now she was able to return the favor. She kissed and nibbled and sucked, higher and higher until she reached the hem of her shorts.

Angela's fingers tightened in her hair and she pulled her head back. From down there, she looked as beautiful as ever, with her lips wet and parted, so deliciously pink that Moira would be content just staring at them for the rest of eternity. Angela pulled her up and kissed her on the mouth, hot and sloppy but with enthusiasm and Moira wondered how did this get to happen.

"Showers," Angela breathed into her mouth and lifted her up. That should not be so hot. Well, Angela shouldn’t be so hot but here she was, resigned to her fate and rather enjoying herself and so was Ziegler so not all was lost.

"Isn't shower sex dangerous?" she tried anyway because maybe there was a way to find reason in this madness, maybe if they stopped-

"Don't care," Angela said and nipped and her neck.

"Didn't you,” Moira gasped but made the effort to continue, “kick Commander Reyes out of your infirmary last week when you found out exactly how he got hurt?"

"How do you know?" Angela asked, still holding her up, still too close to her neck, her warm breath on her skin.

"Who do you think ended up fixing him?"

Angela looked up and her grin was positively feral. Shit. 

“We’ll be more careful than him,” she said and let her down. Moira nodded and pulled off her top, watched Angela do the same and she was so done with denying that yes, Angela Ziegler was attractive and, for some reason, she was as affected as Moira was. Which was the only consolation she had. She pulled at the waistband of Angela’s shorts and Angela let her pull them all the way down, let her pull down her knickers too and maybe showers were not too bad of an idea after all, she thought, pulling Ziegler’s sports bra over her head. 

And then, before she even had a chance to take a better look at her, Ziegler was in her space and she was doing the undressing and Moira helped her as much as she could while touching every inch of skin she could, so reluctant to let go when she finally could press her nails into Angela’s ass, could see her do that tiny jump and gasp. 

“Ready?” Angela asked and pulled her into the shower stall, started the stream and thank deities for the fact that at least water heater was working properly because the stream was warm enough, a touch from scalding, just the way she liked it. Angela went back to working on her neck and Moira was sure it would bruise the next day. She didn’t mind at all.

She tangled her fingers in Angela’s hair, forced her to look her in the eye and enjoyed the frustrated look on her face. She leaned down and kissed her again and she pulled at her hair lightly which had Ziegler go pliant and she liked it. A lot so she pulled again, and switched their positions and, looking straight into Angela’s eyes kneeled, like she did in locker rooms. She mouthed at her inguinal crease, licked the soft patch of hair and buried herself in her pussy, sucked at her clit. Ziegler twitched under her touch, hooked her leg on Moira’s shoulder. Let her play her like an instrument and she did her best to get the loudest moans out of her. She grabbed her hips again, pressed them to the wall to help Ziegler stay upright. The water stream was annoying but she let it flow over her back as she licked into Angela, so warm and wet for her already.

It was intoxicating and only the beginning. She bid her time, took care and was rewarded when Angela’s breath hitched, when she went tense under her and yet she took hold of Moira’s head and pushed her closer, harder into her crotch and Moira couldn’t help the grin pulling at her lips even when she was busy eating Angela out.

One minute Angela was gasping her name and twitching all over and the next her hold on the back of Moira’s head loosened and she pulled her up with a dopey smile and kissed her, licked into Moira’s mouth. Like she was chasing her own taste and this should also be off-putting. But Moira couldn’t care less with Ziegler’s fingers inside her, working in and out and soon she had to back her hands against the wall behind Angela, focusing the last remnants of her sanity on staying uptight.

It was a miracle neither of them slipped.

It was also the best orgasm she had in years.

They showered, stealing kisses, much less frantic with the initial release. She washed Angela’s hair and let her rub the shampoo into her scalp, work the foam. It has been too long since she was with someone like that, since she let someone close enough to bother with something as simple as washing hair.

When all was done and they stepped out of showers, she couldn’t help but wonder what was next. If this was just a simple release or the beginning of something more and she hated herself for that, hated Angela for making her think about concepts such as the possibility that they could end up dating. Acting on a stupid crush was supposed to fix this and it not only didn’t pass, it intensified now, that she knew how Ziegler’s body felt under her hands, how Ziegler sounded when she came.

That she frowned the same way as when she was thinking hard. And that when all the tension was gone from her face she looked like a goddess.

Ziegler dressed before her but she didn’t leave. She waited until Moira was done and ready.

“I guess you’re not going to make it easy?” Ziegler sighed. She raised her brow.

“Pardon?”

“This thing. Experiment, if you will. I believe we can both agree that it was successful and as such you would not be averse to repeating it?”

Moira had to take some time to understand what exactly Ziegler was implying. Too much time for her comfort but it was not the kind of thing she dealt with on a regular basis.

“Yes, I guess, we could continue this… experiment if you want to call it like that,” she finally said. Angela beamed at her.

“Wunderbar, I’d hate for all the hard work to go to waste,” she said and was at the door when something clicked for Moira.

“Wait a second,” Moira reached and pulled her close. She was looking smug, too pleased with herself.

“You mean to say that this whole,” she waved her hand around, “that this whole thing was on purpose.”

She could feel the anger building up and the look on Ziegler’s face didn’t help in the slightest. 

“What, getting your attention? Of course, it was on purpose, Moira. That was the whole point, to get your attention. It wasn’t that easy, you know? The positioning, coming up with excuses to talk to you and don’t get me started on the favors I owe now. You’re a smart woman I’m sure you’ve noticed it couldn’t all be just a coincidence?"

Moira fumed. That little-

Ziegler took her hand. “Moira. I, verdammt. I like you and I’m serious about continuing this thing between us.” Moira let her cup her face. “I think you’re interesting and hot as fuck so why not, you know, try?”

She looked earnest enough and Moira could feel her anger leave her. Well, not entirely but enough to bow down and kiss Angela gently.

“Ok. Let’s see whatever this  _ experiment  _ becomes,” she conceded. “Beats seeing a psychiatrist.”

Angela’s eyes widened. “You wanted to-” she started honest to god giggling. “Of course you did.”

Moira glared at her. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

And she couldn’t really be mad with Angela’s hand in hers, with Angela looking at her with those bright blue eyes of hers and smiling so wide and soft, without any malice.

“I guess,” she shrugged and took her things. “Your quarters or mine?” she asked, bumping their shoulders.

“We could go get something to eat first.”

“Ok.”

She had no idea what this particular disaster would bring but for once she could not help the feeling that maybe. Just maybe. She would end up enjoying herself for a change.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading it, hope you enjoyed and if you liked it, please leave kudos or a comment, we all crave external validation ❤
> 
> I'm on twitter as [batyatta](http://twitter.com/batyatta)


End file.
